She swiftly crossed the paved path of the front garden and came to the elegant door of a 19th century villa on the hill above the old town of Bratislava. The door had a brass lion had with a half cercle passing the beast´s nose, originally used for knocking. It was already dark, but no automatic light appeared and there was no camera watch system either. Pre-technological era, though it was already looming and nearing. The Austrian Embassy residence was sunk in the quiet night. Who knows where the original inhabitants of this house ended? Perhaps the last ones that owned the house privately and properly fled the country if they were lucky, or ended up in a concentration camp, if they were not lucky.
Kristína was young, and even though she felt the untold stories bubbling in her blood, she was oblivious of them for the moment. She had no business coming to the residence at night. For visas, you called and applied. For courtesy visits, you were invited. For official events, too.
She rang the bell lightly, it echoed in this part of the villa, the place where the concierge and the housekeeper or whatever the position was called, lived. His name was Jurgen and he invited her over. Kristína was bored and curious, a dangerous combo in itself. Silence. Steps. Door opening. „Come in,“ he motioned. She slipped and sighed with a relief, naive and racy as she were, she was not completely unaware that this visit was not in accord with the protocole and rules. He should know better when asking her to come over.
They greeted with a light kiss on the cheeks and moved the living space overlooking the dark garden. Jurgen lived there alone, aparently. She did not feel attracted to him, perhaps only in a way one is driven to observe something strange and unknown. Everything about this man was rather weird, his name, his narrowness, even his moustache was a narrow one. He could play a suitor in an English romantic drama, the one who comes as a reliable catch, but conceals a dark secret, and prevents a true love from flourishing. She did not care, these were not the words rolling in her head, these are the narrator´s words.
„Saft?“ He offered her a glass of juice. Jurgen did not speak either English or Slovak, but everything was better than another night spent in the parents flat in the suburbs, and as no other friend, boyfriend or party was on, so there was Jurgen´s invitation. Kristína was expecting him to want to have sex with her. Each time she came, she awaited the predictable course of events to take place, something to break this boring juice drinking session and to stir the excitement. The proposition never came. Nevertheless, she kept coming. The good excuse was the opportunity to polish her German. And to saturate her curiosity, behind which lurked a genuine desire to travel, to get out of this town, to embrace the new. When you were a girl raised in the late communist era, who woke up into the new freedom without any proper tools (not counting her physical appearance and a decent English), you hesitated spreading the wings. To really get out of the country required courage, some paper work and navigation skills, none of those Kristína possesed, not yet. So there was Jurgen, on the territory of the Republic of Austria in a grand villa of the very town she was born in, at least a flavour of „foreign“. Jurgen looked at her with hungry eyes, the passion stayed there, in his hungry eyes. Clearly, he wanted something from her, wanted her in some way. Once even gave her an expensive bottle of parfum, YSL. She loved it, she loved his attention and was not getting him at all. Couldn´t, actually, with what she knew and experienced in her short life. A clever therapist would spot an opportunity: for him, to deal with his masculin insecurity and anxiety, for her, to give room to her desire and to ask herself some crucial questions. Nothing of this happened, they sipped juice and had blant superficial conversations that did not move her German language competence very far. After an hour or two he always drove her home in the limousine with a CD plate. There was a sparkle of advanture in that, and another evening successfully killed. It went on like this, with a frequency couple of times a week.
It could not go on like that forever. Sometimes Kristína felt he was gathering strength to make a move, she did not know how to encourage him, though.
One night, she walked the usual path, rang the bell and was let in as always. Jurgen looked slightly more nervous. Kristína entered the living room and saw a few magazines opened on the coffee table and on a side table. She glanced at them: they were all bride and groom fashion catalogues. Opened on certain pages, it looked like the bride left them for the groom to check out her preferences, suggestions. Kristína felt uneasy, stared at Jurgen, who also had a funny look plastered on his face. Is he trying to tell her something? Obviously, this is not a proposal to marriage. Most likely, he is wanting her to know that he is getting married, to somebody else than her.
On this particular night, he came to sit closer to her than usually, their bodies almost touching. Kristína did not comment on the bridal catalogues. For one thing, her German was not good enough for posing questions in an intelligent way, secondly, she had no practice of honest and difficult conversations. Apparently, Jurgen was ready to reveal something tonight. To be fair, he, at least, had the comfort of his own language.
„I want to tell you something.“
„Yes.“
Ackward silence.
„You know, certain body things come in pairs.“
„Yes,“ Kristína got the word „pair“ correctly.
„Well, in my case, there is one part of my body that does not come in pair.“
Was she dreaming? What was he talking about?
„One. Two.“ He explained. „I have only one.“
Of course, she got that information through her brain, she was not dumb. But kept staring at him stupidly as if she did not. Because, honestly, how was she supposed to treat that piece of information? With empathy? Oh yes, of course, with an empathy. But empathy was not taught, not in schools, not at her home, and like with the honest talk skill, she did not even know something like a true empathy existed. Of course, she was a rather well-educated girl and did not want to laugh in his face. Or ask him – „So you found somebody who wants to marry even with only one ball?“ Because, otherwise, what was the connection with the catalagues sporting beautiful white clad women and handsome men? She felt a pang of shame. Not even this dull one-ball Austrian chooses her. It was a silly thought and a silly feeling, as Kristína never lacked attention of males in classes, bars and cafés, only in this particular season there was nobody interesting and interested around.
She kept playing it numb, as if she knew, and at the same time did not know what he was saying. Was it a clumsy attempt of ending these visits? Was it a clumsy way of excusing himself why he never approached her in another way than with his hungry eyes?
He drove her home, to the suburbs. For the very last time. It was a silent ride. Not that the previous rides were chatty, at least, they were slightly sexy and saturated with a promise. The last one was uneasy silent. They parted with the usual good-bye kiss and she ran the stairs of the panel suburb building to the dark and silent parents´ apartment.
They met once again. A few years later. Kristína had a boyfriend then, somebody whom she finally in her instincts and limits considered a catch. They were invited to the Austrian Embassy for a reception. This time it was an oficial invitation to an elegant lobby at then the most elegant hotel in the town. Austrian Republic was born at the same day as Czechoslovakia, 28th October. The date held significance to both countries. The date is still important to Austrians and Czechs and to certain people in Slovakia. Diplomatic receptions had an air of importance in the slowly awakening town of Bratislava. As usual, people thronged at the buffets and did their best to look good and acceptable while hiding the underlying uneasiness. Kristína put a slice of cake on her plate. She did not want to push elbows in order to get to the fancy fish and paté cannapes. Sugar calms the nerves, anyway. Jurgen spotted them, her and her companion, and came nonchalantly nearer.
„You two stay with the sweet things?“ He asked.
She did not know why the sentence got burnt into her mind. A stupid question. Who stays with the sweet things?
What is it that comes in pairs and in your case, Jurgen, does not? She asked in her mind.
Why are we hurting each other and not knowing it?
„To your health.“ They raised their bubble-wine glasses. Then Jurgen returned to his companion.
The one who actually picked the wedding outfits for both and wanted him despite only one…
